


High Treason

by mcaulfield



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Drug Use, F/F, Fluff, I don't know why this came to me, Sort of a Crack Fic, but I think I'm glad it did?, super minor shadowlands spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21540538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcaulfield/pseuds/mcaulfield
Summary: Sylvanas and Jaina are high in a small room together. That's it, that's the plot.
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner
Comments: 13
Kudos: 125





	High Treason

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this came to me while packing my things for a trip I’m taking. Don’t ask how or why, I honestly don’t know. lol. Enjoy.

The suggestion was…probably not _entirely_ a bad idea, Jaina figured as she looked around at the various leaders gathered before none other than Sylvanas Windrunner. They had followed Bolvar’s instructions and found themselves in Oribos, the city which essentially paralleled Dalaran’s relations with the various regions on the Broken Isles with the various regions in the Shadowlands.

Baine had suggested they all take a break and try to calm themselves. The trip from the top of Icecrown Citadel, into the Maw, and onwards to Oribos had taken quite a toll on the leaders and chosen Champions alike, and their emotions were fried. Dying — or maybe-dying, or half-dying, or whatever they wanted to call it in order to cope with where they were — tended to do that to a person.

Some Satyr from Ardenweald suggested they employ a tool the denizens of their home region often used to achieve peace within their hearts in the start of their own journey through the afterlife and preparation for rebirth. It was an agent that aided in meditation, allowing for reflection upon the mind and soul and their prior life.

The vast majority of leaders found this idea more than agreeable, and so they were lead to a little section of the city that nature seemed to still somehow thrive in despite the surreal and very much stone architecture of the rest of Oribos.

As the leaders were lead into a building and the Champions were lead to a courtyard, Sylvanas trailed behind them nearly silently. She tried not to think too much about the fact that a _Menethil_ was there to represent the Forsaken along with Derek fucking Proudmoore. Her every footfall left wisps of black and purple smoke behind, though it was subtle enough and dissipated quickly enough that few noticed. Most of the important beings in the city already knew who she was, why she was there, and why she’d essentially brought the group of (mostly) mortals from Azeroth to the Shadowlands. They gave her a wide berth and eyed her warily, particularly if they noticed how dark energy all but radiated from her now that she was nearer to her power’s source.

Once the Satyr, the faction leaders, and Sylvanas were all in the room together, it became clear to Jaina that this was a place specifically designed for denizens of Ardenweald to come practice this relaxation technique even in the bustling city of Oribos. Perhaps members of other covenants even came through from time to time, as the aesthetic was much more standardized and similar, almost, to some buildings in Val’shara. With the warm-colored but pale wood on the walls, shelves, and benches; the soft magelights; and the neutral color pallet; it maintained the essence of Ardenweald’s aesthetic while broadening its overall look so members of even Revendreth would be able to find solace there.

The Satyr indicated for the leaders to sit in a circle on the edges of the large, circular rug that took up most of the floor. They did so, somewhat mimicking the places they normally took at a war council, with one difference — Derek and Jaina Proudmoore sat side by side, with Calia Menethil on the other side of Derek. Sylvanas bristled at the thought of the Forsaken intermingling with the Alliance after the many messengers she’d tried to send to them once they were freed from the Lich King.

 _If the_ **_Alliance_ ** _wants to mingle with the_ **_undead_** _, then mingle, we shall,_ Sylvanas thought to herself as she approached the trio. She placed herself next to Jaina, essentially surrounding the archmage with the dead. _Let’s see how comfortable she can get like_ **_this_** _,_ Sylvanas mused, a signature smirk making its way to her lips as the almost-whispering strands of smoke curling out of and around her gauntlet subsided.

Jaina shot Sylvanas a firm glare, shifting slightly away from the Banshee Queen. _Can she even be called a Queen anymore?_ Jaina wondered. Sylvanas simply continued to smirk, crossing one leg under a raised knee and leaning back on one hand, ever the picture of lazy arrogance.

The Satyr explained, then, that he wanted them to close their eyes and try to relax, imagining something calming to focus on as he lit the herbs and incense that would set the atmosphere and amplify their ability to introspect and relax. With a promise to intervene if anyone got any smart ideas while everyone’s eyes were closed, the Satyr went about lighting the herbs and incense.

Sylvanas was skeptical. She wasn’t even sure it would work on her — or those _other_ undead in the room — because her body didn’t quite process things the same way. Sure, she could eat, so maybe it would work, but she doubted it. She played along anyway, though, curious about the biological aspect and knowing it had been some time since she last meditated. _That,_ she could at least do.

As the leaders closed their eyes, some more hesitant than others, many eyeing Sylvanas, the scent of light flowers and cloves wafted into their awareness. There was a slightly sour undertone to it, but it was counteracted by the sweetness of the herbs and the earthy, grounding scent of cloves. It wasn’t for everyone, as made clear by the way Genn Greymane scrunched up his Worgen nose, but most found it relaxing. Jaina certainly found it so. Even Sylvanas felt a _little_ more relaxed as she settled in and tried to clear her mind.

It didn’t take long for the humans and elves present to feel a mild euphoria bleed into their consciousness. Even Sylvanas felt a little bit of... _something._ It wasn’t quite euphoria, but it was...warm. Maybe even a little fuzzy. She dared to crack one eye open, looking around to see if anyone else was feeling what she felt.

To her surprise, it seemed the leaders were keeping their eyes shut. Some, like Baine, had dopey smiles on their faces but they were content to continue relaxing. Or...most of them were. 

When Sylvanas glanced at Jaina, she found her doing the same thing — scanning the room with one barely-cracked eye. Something about it was funny, sort of, and it made Jaina giggle quietly. She was hushed by Lor’themar, which made Sylvanas chuckle, too. That time, he simply grunted his disapproval. Their eyes were both fully open at that point, and they looked at each other with small smiles on their faces — they found themselves a bit unable to _not_ smile with...whatever herbs filled the room with a complex smell and put a hefty handful of irritated leaders into a trance.

Their attention was grabbed by the Satyr waving them over. Quietly — or nearly silently in Sylvanas’s case and somewhat quietly in Jaina’s — they walked over to the Satyr. He guided them through a door in the back.

“You two must wield powerful magics,” he mused. Jaina looked at Sylvanas and shrugged. “That other mage with you...Thalyssra? She may wake from the trance as well, she may not. Her energy is not as... _intense_ as yours is.”

He paced across the room and gestured for them to sit on the bench against the wall. It was like a smaller version of the other room, benches wrapping around the walls and a rug in the center, the space lit by soft magelights. Sylvanas and Jaina both sat on the bench the Satyr gestured to.

“Soooo...what now?” Sylvanas drawled, sort of hating the way that came out.

“You wait it out. You’re high,” he said plainly.

“High?” Jaina asked.

“Yes. The herbs can be entrancing in large quantities but it takes more to affect one who wields very powerful magics either of the arcane sort or something more... _familiar_ here in the Shadowlands,” the Satyr explained. “That less intense effect acts more like a high. And there’s no way I’m letting you ride that out with the others. Speaking of which, I must go monitor them. Good luck!” He sauntered back into the other room, leaving Jaina and Sylvanas a bit dumbstruck.

“High. He got us high. We’re _high,”_ Sylvanas murmured, staring at the rug. It looked...soft? But it was made with corded rope. Maybe it was soft corded rope? She wanted to put her face on it and see.

“Sylvanas, what are you—“ Jaina exclaimed, confused as Sylvanas leaned forward, slid off the bench, and pressed her face against the rug. A dusting of pink blush bloomed on Jaina’s cheeks as she couldn’t help but glance at Sylvanas’s ass. Her leathers were so tight and it was right there and—

“Mm...soft,” Sylvanas murmured, muffled from the rug. Or, more accurately, the bottom of Jaina’s _robes._ How had she missed that in her ruminating?

“Sylvanas!” Jaina said, trying to scold her but chuckling at the sight and sound of Sylvanas Windrunner, the Banshee Queen(—?), undead and heartless Quel’dorei, pressing her face against the bottom edge of Jaina’s robes while nuzzling it and...was that _purring?_ “Are you... _purring?”_

Sylvanas’s only answer was a hum and some continued purring as she wrapped her arms around Jaina’s leg and nuzzled her robes against her shin. Jaina had half a mind to shake Sylvanas off but was too amused by the behavior to do so.

After a minute or two of that, Sylvanas crawled — really, it was like crawling — up onto the bench again. Jaina thought she was in the clear, relieved to be rid of the banshee’s odd behavior. She was too high to comprehend it. She did briefly wonder if it was an elf thing, but she quickly stored that question away for later when Sylvanas all but _snuggled up_ to her.

“You’re so _warm,”_ Sylvanas purred, nuzzling into Jaina’s shoulder. Jaina, for her part, was just confused. This was...so out of character for Sylvanas that she didn’t quite know how to react. It _was_ Sylvanas Windrunner, after all.

And? If she was being perfectly honest with herself? She was _horribly_ touch-starved. Touch-starved enough that a chilly, dead, evil _banshee_ pressing up against her made her want to be held. She scoffed in annoyance, though Sylvanas took it as scoffing at her saying Jaina was warm.

“You are, though,” Sylvanas insisted, pressing even closer. It was weird to hear that otherworldly echo of her voice in anything other than sharp, sarcastic barbs. A cool, slender arm wrapped around Jaina’s waist and pulled her even closer to Sylvanas, the risen elf nuzzling her face into her neck slightly. Jaina froze, unsure of how to deal with it. Because this was supposed to be _the enemy,_ no matter what Sylvanas claimed her endgame was. Her power was derived from this... _Jailer_ they’d been warned of. And yet here she was, practically acting like a housecat, giving Jaina more affection than she’d had in... _Tides, has it really been years?_

The purring resumed as Sylvanas nestled in closer, all but curling herself up around Jaina as best she could on the bench. Jaina’s thoughts were foggy and conflicted as Sylvanas’s body began to take on some of the warmth of Jaina’s body, making the embrace almost warmer as Sylvanas’s body acted almost like an insulator.

“We speak _nothing_ of this once we’re out of here,” Jaina all but hissed as she slowly relaxed against Sylvanas, almost subconsciously. But it _wasn’t_ entirely subconscious movement — because, really, if she was going to be stuck, high, in a room with _Sylvanas Windrunner_ of all people, she might as well take advantage of whatever peaceful behavior she could. Maybe Sylvanas would reveal something about herself or her plans in her intoxication, Jaina told herself.

“Yeah, I’ll kill and raise you if you do,” Sylvanas murmured, her voice still soft despite the implication of her words and how she rubbed her nose against Jaina’s neck. Jaina shuddered ever so slightly at the touch and the way Sylvanas’s slightly cool breath brushed over her skin — _does she even need to breathe?_

Jaina turned to regard Sylvanas, wanting to say something to get rid of the awkward atmosphere she felt closing in around her as the (former?) Banshee Queen essentially was _snuggling_ her. She paused, however, when she realized _just how close_ Sylvanas really was. The look in the normally icy-demeanored elf’s eyes caught her off guard, too. It was soft, and it almost looked like it took a second or two for Sylvanas to realize she was even holding eye contact with Jaina.

When she did, however, Sylvanas’s eyes lidded slightly and a lazy version of the smirk Jaina was used to seeing spread on her lips. Jaina’s eyes widened slightly, not expecting the reaction from Sylvanas — though maybe she should have, considering this was still Sylvanas, just...a little intoxicating.

Intoxicated. She meant intoxicated.

Jaina blinked, blushing ever so slightly as she was embarrassed by her own thoughts.

“Something amiss?” Sylvanas said, voice a little silkier than the spaced-out voice she’d had before.

Sylvanas’s eyes flickered down to Jaina’s lips, which made Jaina swallow hard. She’d been _drunk_ with people she shouldn’t have before, and...well, if she was perfectly honest, particularly in her youth, she’d often wound up in bed with them not too long after. This was _not_ someone to have any sort of intoxicated interaction with, though remembering some of her younger dalliances certainly didn’t help with the blush on her cheeks.

Sylvanas’s purring quieted slightly, followed by a low hum. Eyes fixing on Jaina’s lips again, she — seemingly without a thought — leaned in and kissed Jaina softly.

Jaina inhaled sharply and she froze, eyes wide. Sylvanas’s lips were...soft. The _kiss_ was soft, likely a product of Sylvanas clearly being high out of her mind. Sylvanas hummed again, pressing closer and kissing Jaina again. Jaina’s head felt like it was full of arcane static, white noise that crackled with some sort of inarticulate energy. She couldn’t deny that the kiss felt _nice,_ but this was _Sylvanas._ But, as Sylvanas seemed just lost in Jaina’s warmth and softness, still purring subtly like a soothed kitten, Jaina’s lips moved against hers of their own accord.

Jaina’s eyelids fluttered closed as she unthinkingly kissed back. Sylvanas had a point — soft things were _nice_ with the high. She _really_ tried not to think of the fact that she was kissing Sylvanas and it ended up being a surprisingly easy task. Her mind was still in such a fog that she was sort of unable to focus on more than one thing at a time. And that was fine...Sylvanas’s lips were soft.

And so was the tip of her tongue as it traced Jaina’s lower lip. With another somewhat sharp inhale, Jaina parted her lips for Sylvanas. _Because at this point,_ she figured, _why the fuck not?_ And she was _very_ glad she did with the way the tip of Sylvanas’s tongue brushing against hers made her tingle. _Tides,_ she was touch-starved.

Of course, not a moment later, the door swung open and the Satyr returned — with a slight gasp and swift apology. Jaina _tried_ to shove Sylvanas off of her, though she was only successful in parting their lips. Sylvanas’s ears drooped noticeably, which Jaina knew meant she was disappointed. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was, too.

“The others are beginning to come out of their trances,” he informed them. “I see at least _one_ of you is still...rather high,” he observed as Sylvanas returned to nuzzling Jaina’s shoulder and neck.

“Leave us,” Sylvanas responded, though it certainly held less bite and command than her voice normally would have. The Satyr merely chuckled, placing his hand on the doorknob.

“Take your time. Come out when you’re ready, but...please do try to keep it under control,” he said, leveling Jaina with a look that clearly said, _‘I expect you’ll keep her in line.’_ Jaina wasn’t sure how capable she’d be of doing that...especially not with her own head still in a bit of a fog.

The Satyr left, Sylvanas immediately snuggling as close as possible to Jaina. She nuzzled the bridge of her nose against Jaina’s neck again.

“So how does it feel to commit _high treason,_ Lord Admiral?” Sylvanas purred.

“...I think you just made me hate you _more,”_ Jaina responded, pinching the bridge of her nose as Sylvanas began to kiss and nibble up her neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry not sorry about the pun, this is how I am, don't @ me lol.  
> Oh also this is the only fic I've ever written that didn't include smut? It's a miracle.


End file.
